


Hit the Stops

by ghostb0y



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Body Horror, Domestic Violence, Drug Abuse, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, well kinda
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 02:13:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2049459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostb0y/pseuds/ghostb0y
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>***read this if you want but i lost all motivation for this story so its doubtful that ill continue it***</p><p>I closed my eyes for a second and shook my head hard, hoping to detangle my muddled thoughts and discern hallucination from reality. Under the wavering, colorful blackness behind my eyelids, I sorted a few things out for myself. It was Thursday, March 6th of the year 2014. My name was Tavros Nitram, and I lived with my boyfriend Gamzee Makara who currently had a friend named Karkat Vantas over. I was currently tripping the fuck out on acid, on LSD, on whatever the hell you wanted to call it, and it was not a good trip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hit the Stops

“Tonight’s gonna be a good one motherfucker,” Gamzee drawled as a way of greeting as he sauntered into the room, a small bag clutched loosely in his gaunt, bony fingers. I looked over at him from the couch, breaking concentration from the show that was currently playing on the television. So what if Pokemon was a kid’s show, it was still badass.

“Huh? What’d you get?” I inquired. Gamzee had been getting a lot of new stuff, better stuff than usual, as of late from Equius and his various unnamed sources. I was eager to see what he’d managed to get his hands on this time; maybe it’d make that dull throbbing in my left shoulder go away.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Gamzee grinned as he flopped down next to me, slinging his arm across my shoulders and jarring the aforementioned injury. I didn’t say anything, only hissed out an involuntary breath between my teeth. “Don’t you want a little surprise in your night? I got some prime fuckin’ shit right here,” he held up the bag that was in his hand, too close to my face and too briefly for me to get a real look at it. All I saw was a flash of white.

“Do I get to guess?” Gamzee liked to play games like this—hell, I met him in a game of Who’s Got the Button—so maybe if I guessed right I’d know what was coming.

He sighed, almost as if disappointed, but the small grin on his face didn’t falter. “Where’s the fun in that? Just take it.”

I furrowed my brows and held out my hand, expecting from the little glance I’d gotten to get a pill of some sort but he just laughed. Gamzee had said sometime in the last week that he wanted to drop acid with me again and I started to second guess myself on the attributes of the drug.

“C’mere,” he said distractedly, opening the bag outside my field of vision and getting what I assumed was either a pill or a blotter from inside it. “Open up.” I did as he said, and he placed a little papery tab under my tongue—acid it was, then. He patted my head and I smiled, leaning up and stealing a quick kiss that he reciprocated for a fleeting moment. Then he was up and off the couch, the bag stuffed into a pocket somewhere, and headed once again for the rec room.

I wondered briefly why he wasn’t dropping with me, since it was only us two in the house. I listened to the sounds of screeching and zombie moaning and laughter emanating from the badly soundproofed room and wondered who he was playing with; he hardly ever played games of that nature offline. A flash of white light from the television in front of me caught my attention and I turned back to it, seeing Ash and some gym leader about to battle, and I put all other thoughts out of my mind. This would be getting interesting in about fifteen minutes.

I kept my eyes on the tv for the most part, looking around occasionally to swat away an errant bug—Texas summers were the worst—or something else similarly unimportant. Ash kept on battling and I kept on making the most of my subscription to Netflix, but something felt off. At most five minutes had gone by and I was already starting to feel funny. The flashy animation was jumping out at me, the characters leaving faint ghost trails behind them as they moved. I looked away from the screen, over my shoulder to the slightly ajar door to the rec room, shouts and peals of deep, low-pitched laughter washing over me in waves. It wasn’t supposed to hit this quickly. Something was wrong; I felt funny and not a good funny.

I got up and wandered around, the trails around the lights molesting my eyes and making me a bit nauseous. I made my way to the rec room quietly and sat on the couch next to Gamzee, curling up in the fetal position and resting my chin on my knees. Gamzee muttered something that wasn’t remotely English in greeting and I nodded back, training my vision on the ground. He probably hadn’t dropped yet, he wouldn’t start a trip playing such an—

“Huh?” his voice speaking into the headset interrupts my train of thought. “Oh yeah, got it earlier today; why, you want some? …Sure bro, I didn’t take none yet. Ahahaha nah motherfucker, Tav’s already trippin’ balls I think,” he looked over at me just barely and I shrugged. I was definitely feeling it, and I realized I was still holding the blotter under my tongue. All that was left was mostly just paper though, so I swallowed it. The sensation of all those muscles clenching like that was so intensely weird, I almost choked on my own spit. Instead of that though, I coughed, _hard,_ and, not wanting to disturb Gamzee’s conversation I quickly jumped up and ran out of the room.

I ended up in the bathroom doubled up and coughing into my knees, and when the coughing finally stopped and the swirls of color and light and sound refocused in my eyes, a huge wave of nausea hit me. With shaky hands, I threw the lid of the toilet up and, there’s no nice way of putting this, I vomited up everything in my stomach and then some. Retching and heaving, bursts of painful color exploded behind my tightly closed eyes, all reds and browns and deep purples swirling together to create a huge clusterfuck of intensity in my mind. Once it’s all finished and I’m left with only the bad taste in my mouth I open my eyes, the colors staying but now with a different background. I spit the last disgusting dregs of puke out of my mouth and, without looking into the bowl, flushed it and closed the lid. “Fuck…” I muttered. Not even ten minutes in and this was already an extraordinarily shitty trip.

I left the bathroom and went into the kitchen, rinsing my mouth thoroughly with the nozzle on the sink. I filled my mouth with water and downed it as fast as it came out, ridding my throat of the last of the burning bile that was there. I heard Gamzee calling out to me, but through the rush of blood in my ears I didn’t hear it.

“Huh?” I yelled back, my raw throat making my voice gravelly.

“You aight in there?” Gamzee called back, sounding distracted and not at all very much concerned.

“Yeah I’m… I’m good, don’t worry,” I said, deciding in an instant not to trouble him. I could live through a few hours of a bad trip, it wasn’t like I hadn’t done it before.

“Alright, Karbro’s comin’ over, said he’ll be here in like fifteen minutes.”

My stomach dropped into my feet and my heart started racing. “Uhh, alright,” I said, trying to block the blatant emotion from my voice even just a little bit. Either it worked, or Gamzee really didn’t give a shit—honestly it could be either one—because all I heard in reply was a distracted grunt, then the various street sounds associated with Grand Theft Auto (when had he changed games…?).

I tried to sort my thoughts out through the haze of color and—whoa floor please stop moving like that, you’re making it hard to—whoa, shit okay this— _thud._ My knees hit the carpet hard, the floor rushing up faster than should’ve been possible, and I just barely flung my arms out before my face hit the ground. This obviously wasn’t working. I needed to get somewhere I could sit and…and do what? I couldn’t make Karkat not come over, I couldn’t stop any of this from happening. All I could do was—

_Knock knock knock_

What? I looked up at the door from my crouched position on the floor; it couldn’t have been a quarter of an hour already. Hadn’t Gamzee just told me that Karkat was on his way? I looked back down to the floor in front of me, hearing Gamzee pause his game and go to answer the door, calling out some random meaningless gibberish that was probably real words, but my brain was too muddled and confused to actually understand them as English. The dark blue fibers of the carpet swirled and pulsed beneath my hands, jumping up from the ground to assault my eyes.

“What the fuck is his deal?” I managed to pick out those words from Karkat’s greeting. I didn’t look up, just sat there staring at the ground as it invaded any sense of privacy I tried to maintain. It felt like the colors were permeating through my mind, gathering all my thoughts and worries and fears and putting them on display for anyone to see. I couldn’t even keep my mind enough to remind myself that no, the ground couldn’t do that, I was just tripping and it felt like that.

“I told you bro, he’s trippin’ already. Motherfucker started feelin’ it almost soon as I gave ‘im the shit.” Gamzee replied with what sounded like a malicious tone to his voice, though I could’ve just been hearing things. They continued conversing like that for what felt like hours, though it probably wasn’t even a full minute before Gamzee directed his verbal attention to me.

“Hey motherfucker.” I kept my eyes trained on the ground, specifically not looking up at either of them. “Tavros, fuckin’ look up here for a mo’.”

At the slightly angry tone in his voice my head snapped up, my eyes meeting his as well as they could. Cheshire-esque grins broke out on both of their faces, getting bigger and bigger with every passing moment until their faces looked split in half. Their mouths were filled with demon-like, razor sharp teeth and the expressions on their faces were nearly identical. Hungry, predatory, not to mention unnatural shades of bright red eyes roved over my face, their bodies transforming before my eyes, looking like something straight out of an HR Giger masterpiece. They were getting closer and closer, I had to stop this, had to get away, had to—

“Holy dickmunching shitballs Tavros shut your goddamn mouth. You’d think we were trying to eat you or some shit, jesus fuck.” Karkat’s eloquent vocabulary shocked me out of my apparent reverie and I realized my eyes were wide as saucers and my mouth was gaping like a fish out of water. I blinked hard, and suddenly Gamzee and Karkat were in front of me. Not some demons or terrifying aliens, just Gamzee and…and Karkat. Gamzee’s face was less than a foot away from my own and I stumbled backwards, landing on my butt with my legs splayed awkwardly out in front of me, my hands splayed on the ground behind. I scooted back as far as my trembling limbs would let me—which, admittedly wasn’t very far seeing as the ground had decided to become very much like a solid ocean, bucking me up and down in harsh waves that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop.

Karkat just laughed and turned away, facing Gamzee. I heard him murmur something about ‘fuckin’ handful I bet’ accompanied by what could probably be considered as a confirming laugh from Gamzee. It was kind of hard to tell when the ground had started sounding like Apollo 11 taking off inside my eardrums.

I closed my eyes for a second and shook my head hard, hoping to detangle my muddled thoughts and discern hallucination from reality. Under the wavering, colorful blackness behind my eyelids, I sorted a few things out for myself. It was Thursday, March 6th of the year 2014. My name was Tavros Nitram, and I lived with my boyfriend Gamzee Makara who currently had a friend named Karkat Vantas over. I was currently tripping the fuck out on acid, on LSD, on whatever the hell you wanted to call it, and it was not a good trip.

Any other thoughts were suddenly forced from my brain, much like the breath from my lungs as I was forced into a horizontal position, dirt from the never-actually-been-vacuumed carpet sticking to my sweat-dampened face. My eyes flew open at the impact and I tried to heave in a breath, my face contorting in pain. Little headway was made on the breathing front before I was struck again, this time on my ribs, and there was no way there wouldn’t be at least a couple bruised bones there, maybe a fracture if I was really unlucky. The next blow landed in the same place and a slight cracking sound reached my ears as the force of the attack rolled me onto my side, then my back, and then I was staring up at the perpetrator with unfocused, dilated eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been running around in my head for about a year now, and I've only just been able to actually get my thoughts into real words.


End file.
